Earthward
by WhenILookAtTheStars
Summary: [FINISHED]...when stiff and sore and scarred, I take away my hand from leaning on it hard in grass and sand, the hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength, to feel the earth as rough to all my length.
1. Prologue: The Places You Fear The Most

_I walked away to get wisdom, but in the end I just came home  
And it drops me, drops me down  
And I'm not feeling so good again.  
Lisa Loeb _

**-1965-**

It seemed much bigger than it had those six years before. Maybe it was because only I was standing in that cave, instead of all seven of us. Still I knew this place; the smell of it entered into my spirit and dropped me down to my knees.

I dug my palms into the soil, trying to find something I had left here. My innocence, my heart perhaps, I didn't quite know what it was, but it was buried here, along with so many other memories. Six years. Had it really been that long? I almost couldn't believe it.

My fingertips traced letters in the sand. Words that were uttered; murmured so long before in a place of dust and whispers, between book pages. Things that kept me hoping and clinging.

I sat and recollected.


	2. For All his Flaws

-1959-

Autumn rain can be so dismal. Especially when it downpours and you have no overcoat. That was the predicament I was in as I stood at the train depot, waiting for a ride that I was sure would never come.

Charlie was never really reliable. I had known this for quite a while, ever since he had forgotten I was home alone when I was about five. He had gone outside to the sand lot with the rest of his little friends and didn't even remember that I was all alone without anyone else around. He came back four hours later to find me crouched, terrified under my bed. Of course, he felt guilty as hell and took me out for ice cream afterwards. He was definitely very irresponsible, yet always seemed to cheer me up. Right now I was going to need a lot of that.

The depot was hardly anything to be praised for, a little shelter that didn't stop the wet from seeping into my clothing, and dripping from my soaked hair. Unlike my brother's, it was auburn colored, long and thick. Also, when there was damp weather, it curled uncontrollably. I looked like a wet dog. Hugging my arms across my chest, I kicked the puddles forming around my feet. The shiny black of them matched my prepatory school uniform, complete with the mid calf length plaid skirt, white lapel button up shirt, with a green cloth tie, and sports coat, with the Traster-Collins School for Ladies emblem on the breast pocket. Everything soaked, everything drenched to the bone. I had been standing there; waiting for a full twenty five minutes for Charlie to come pick me up. He had said in his letter that he would be here at promptly 3:30 with his teacher's car to bring me to the guest house at Wellton. I was to stay there for the two week holiday vacation.

I glanced at my watch again. 4:00, lord I was going to kill him. Then, to my relief, I saw a very old, very clunky car round the corner. I didn't care what it look looked like, as long as I was dry. As it pulled up, I saw that it was not Charlie in the car, but another boy. The door slammed as he got out.

"Hello! Are you Rachael Dalton?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered warily, "Who are you?"

"I'm Charlie's friend, Neil Perry; he was unable to come and pick you up so he asked me if I would take Keating's car and get you out of this downpour." He said, running up under the depot and picking up my suitcase.

"Oh, well thank you." I replied as he opened the back door and put my leather bag in the back seat.

He opened the door for me, something I was not used to and surprised me. I got into the car, thankful to be out of the rain.

"How long have you been waiting there?" He asked, as he got into the automobile himself, and started up the car.

I gathered my hair across one shoulder and attempted to wring out the water and smooth the waves, "About a half an hour."

I saw the boy cringe, "Sorry about that. Charlie got into a little trouble, and asked me to come pick you up ten minutes ago."

"Its fine, don't worry about it." I said wearily, "Charlie's always forgetting about me, among other things."

Neil chuckled, running his hand through his dark hair, damp like mine, "Well, at least we got you out of that downpour. You would think this storm would let up after a couple of hours."

"I see the clouds have a different agenda," I replied, throwing my hopeless locks behind my shoulder and playing with the silver band on my index finger.

"So Mr. Perry, what's Wellton like? I've been only once when Charlie first started there," I asked, trying to break the silence that had descended and threaten to suffocate any hope of conversation.

"Mr. Perry?" the boy said looking over at me with a grin that made me blush, "Well then, Miss. Dalton, we can't have ourselves be on formal terms. Call me Neil, please."

"Alright Neil," I answered with a smile back, "Than you will have to call me Rachael, if you please."

"Wellton, Rachael, is more widely known as, if you will excuse my language, Hellton."

"Ah," I said, beginning to enjoy this Neil Perry's company, "Hellton? Then my question is answered."

"Nolan, the headmaster, conducts it like a military school." He continued dark eyes not leaving the road, "He's a cranky old man, Nolan. My parents approve of the school however, and it is known for spouting some of the most brilliant men in the country."

"And dullest," I muttered. I didn't mean to have him hear it, but obviously he did because he let out a short breath of laughter.

"You're true on that. They aren't the most excitable of guys, but they get their jobs done and they're pretty decent."

I smiled softly and turned my attention to my window. The rain was relentless.

"You don't look a whole lot like your brother do you?" He said.

I turned to see him looking at me, as if trying to find Charlie somewhere in my light features.

"No, he took after our father. Personally, I wish I had as well, but instead I am the spitting image of our mother." I answered regretfully.

"Ah, I see," He said, smiling again and turning back to the road.

The clouds did not let up as we pulled up to the guest house. It was situated a few feet from the main campus and dormitories, and was created so visiting family members of students or teachers would have a place to stay. I had learned all this in father's letter to me. He was off in England on business and I would not be able to come home for the holiday, but if I wished I could visit my brother at Wellton Academy. It was either that or stay at Traster-Collins for the two weeks of break, which did not appeal to me. So I was packed up and sent off to Wellton. Wellton Academy was not on break like T.C, however, so I was prepared for a long, boring two weeks. Well, at least, perhaps Neil could keep me company sometimes so I wouldn't have to just see my brother all the time. I wasn't the most outgoing person in groups, unlike my brother who thrived in a crowd.

"We're going to have to make another run for it," Said Neil, stopping the car.

"Won't bother me, I'm already wet enough." I said opening the door,

"Yes, but I'm not," and with that Neil opened his door and bolted over to the back seat where my bags were. I already had the backdoor unlocked and was reaching for my suitcase, but he insisted on carrying it in.

"You've probably had it hard all day; I'll take care of this."

"Thanks." I said, idly following him.

We entered the lobby to find Charlie sitting on the couch reading a magazine. It irked me how careless he was.

"Dolly," He said when he saw me enter, using my pet name, much to my consternation, especially in front of Neil.

He came up and gave me as distant a hug as possible, "You're soaked."

"No kidding," I said caustically, I was not happy with him.

"Now it's not my fault I couldn't come and pick you up, it was my science professor. There were some complications in his class today he had to discuss with me about after class."

"He means he 'accidentally' dropped a test tube out the window onto Nolan's car." Neil interjected, handing over my suitcase to Charlie, "Well I have to get back to do some history. It was nice to meet you Rachael,"

"Nice to meet you too," I answered, watching him close the glass doors behind him and run for the dorms.

"So, was Neil a good driver?" Charlie asked, as he carried my things to the elevator. The Guest house was like a hotel, you wouldn't even think you were on school grounds.

"Better than you," I said. I was not in a good mood. Charlie chuckled as the elevator doors closed.

"Dads going to be in England for another three weeks." Charlie said quietly.

"Yes, I know, he wrote me." I replied, I really didn't feel like talking about dad, but he persisted.

"Don't worry about it, Dolly, he's a busy man. He's liable to make some mistakes and forget things. You know about his memory," Charlie continued.

I understood he was trying to make me feel better but it really wasn't helping.

"Charlie, I'm fine. I understand his position, maybe next year he'll remember. I mean it's an out of the way date anyhow, November 3? I understand completely. I can also understand why he would want to forget it as well." I stared hard at the wood of the elevator door.

"I'll throw a birthday party, or something for you Dolls, don't worry. I won't forget." I looked over at him. Charlie smiled that annoying grin of his that always made me smile back. For all his flaws, Charlie was a pretty good older brother.


	3. Dinner At Hellton Hall

By the time I made it to the eating hall, I was alone as I entered the building but soon found Neil as he was coming late to dinner. He led me in, lessening my anxiety.

Everyone was already seated. The teachers and administration up at white draped tables on a high dais, while the students sat at neat rows of long wooden slabs. We were two of the last to enter and did so, thankfully, as discreetly as possible. I didn't feel like being noticed very much tonight.

They had already said grace and now were chatting and eating very casually. It reminded me a little of the T.C dining room, and I relaxed a bit.

"Neil! Over here!" A voice called.

I looked over to see a very tall, dark haired boy waving us over. Charlie sat by him and smiled at me when he noticed I was there.

"Dolls! You decided to come!" Charlie said as we sat down at the table.

I felt nervous all over again, though, as I was seated. They were all watching me. I tried to ignore them by fidgeting with my napkin.

"Guys, this is my kid sister, Rachael." Charlie said.

I cringed at the title 'kid sister', but they didn't seem to notice it.

"Rachael this is Pitts," Charlie said introducing the tall, dark boy that had motioned to us as we had entered, "It his last name, but that's just what we call him."

"I'm Steven Meeks," Said the blonde boy next to Pitts, glasses perched on the end of his nose, He had a sweet smile.

"Knox Overstreet," introduced the next boy, with hazel eyes and a funny grin that made me beam back.

"Over there is Cameron," Continued Neil pointing to a boy with vibrant red hair at the other end of the table who waved a greeting.

"And this is Todd Anderson," Neil said leaning back so I could meet to silent brunette next to him. He grinned quietly, so quickly that it you almost missed it.

"And that's about it, oh and you've already met Neil." Said Charlie leaning back in his chair.

"Yes, the one who actually remembered me at the train depot this afternoon." I quipped to my older brother, with a sideways grin to Perry.

"When are you going to get off that horse Dolls?" Charlie inquired dipping his bread into his stew.

I smiled and arched an eyebrow

"Why are you visiting Wellton?" Meeks asked, resting an elbow on the table.

"Well, our father is in Europe at the moment, so I couldn't go home for the holidays, and I didn't want to stay at Traster-Collins, so I decided to come here for the two weeks." I replied, feeling a little bit more comfortable.

"You mean, you guys at T.C are already out for vacation?" Knox said in surprise.

I nodded as I trailed my spoon around my bowl. I had always felt awkward eating in public and around boys the feeling was magnified.

Thinking about this made me realize that I still had my coat on, half buttoned. Taking it off, I glanced up at the teacher's table. They were all old, and bald, and dressed in cardigans and ties. All except for one. He was younger, which surprised me. There were rarely young teachers at schools like these.

"Who's that teacher up there?" I asked, "The one on the far left?"

"Oh him?" Pitts said turning around and looking, "That's the captain."

The boys chuckled at that as I sat sort of confused and feeling very much like an outsider.

"Mr. Keating," Neil said, brushing his hands of bread crumbs, "He's the new English teacher. A little eccentric, but excellent."

"Carpe Diem." Muttered Charlie, "Hey, Dolls, is that the sweater grandma gave you?"

"Seize the day?" I asked, ignoring his question.

"It was a lesson the captain taught us." Replied Cameron down the table.

"Why do you call him the captain?"

"Jeez, you're full of questions tonight." Charlie commented.

"It was something he told us at the beginning of the year. Do you know the poem 'Oh Captain, My Captain' by Walt Whitman?" Neil said.

I nodded.

"Well that's where he got it from. He's a pretty funny guy." He continued, "You should meet him, you know."

"Yah, two loonies together, can't go wrong." Charlie mumbled carelessly.

"Are you having enough fun over there?" I sneered. Charlie smirked back annoyingly.

"Are you two always this bad at home?" Meeks asked with a grin.

"When we _are_ home," Charlie replied, "At the _same time_."

"How far apart are you two? In years I mean," inquired Cameron.

"He's 18, I'm 15,"

A bell then rang, signifying the end of dinner. I hadn't managed to consume much, but I wasn't bothered. I stood and gathered my coat in my arms, the others standing as well.

"Well, its getting late and I guess I might want to make a run across the courtyard before it starts to rain again." I said.

"Late? Its 6:30." Charlie said with a tilt in his voice that irked me once again.

"Do you want to meet Mr. Keating?" Neil asked, "I can introduce you, if you want. Or maybe you would rather Charlie did,"

Deep down, I wanted Neil to, but I had been ignoring Charlie all night so I felt as though it was his job to show me around. I shrugged, "Either ways fine with me."

"Go ahead, Perry," Charlie said, "Cameron was going to help me out with something in Latin anyway,"

"Alright," Neil replied, "Come on then, he's just right up here."

I followed his tall figure up to the dais where the teachers were just dispersing.

"Mr. Keating," called Neil, but the man seemed to ignore him deliberately, "Captain,"

At that he looked up with a grin, his blue eyes smiling along with his mouth.

"Yes, Mr. Perry?"

"Captain, this is Charlie's sister, Rachael." He said pushing me forward, his hand lingering on my arm, "Don't worry, she's nothing like her brother."

"Well, that's too bad; I'm rather fond of your loudmouth brother." Keating said taking my hand in a strong shake.

I smiled back, "Me too, sometimes."

"What school do you go to, Miss Dalton? And what brings you here?" He inquired.

I replied as I had all the other times. He didn't seem like too much of an oddball, maybe it was just my brother's cynical opinions that had given me the impression I first got.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Rachael, and I hope to see more of you later on."

"Same here, Mr. Keating." I said, and meant it.

As Neil and I walked out of the hall, I studied the paintings on the walls, like how Neil would examine faces. They were of boys in the Wellton uniform, all stony, pious and serious. It made me depressed to see them like that. I could never blow out the spark of Charlie's joy and banish his smile forever, Neil as well. I was beginning to like his smile a lot. I shook the thoughts from my mind and saw that four of them were holding banners declaring 'honor', 'tradition', 'discipline', and 'excellence'.

"You like art?" Neil asked, standing next to me.

"Yes," I replied, "But not this kind."

I began to walk toward the door, pulling my coat on and buttoning it up. I was feeling very stifled all of the sudden, in that ancient hall.

"Well, thank you for escorting me in back there," I said with a grin.

"I'll walk you back to the guest house," Neil said opening the door for me, "And you're welcome."

The air outside was frigid and trembling with mist. The shapes in the fog reminded me of lovers, hands pressed against each other as if in fervent want and need, passion in their feathery white figures. Why was I thinking like this tonight? The quick walk was dusted with quiet and peace. The dark and dankness of the air seemed to make neither of us in the mood for discussion.

He stopped at the guest house door and turned to me, "I hope you enjoyed dinner, Rachael." He said, his lips parting in the smile I was growing so fond of.

"I did very much so, thanks." I said holding out my hand for a shake. He, in turn, gave it an abrupt jerk.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" He asked, and I prayed to God I didn't just imagine a tilt of hope in his voice.

"Sure, do you have a library around here?" I asked.

"Yes we do, would you like me to show you?"

"Why not, if you don't mind."

"Nah, not at all," he said with a grin, and started backing up, "Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow." I concluded.

And with a final nod, he turned and ran back to the dormitory, leaving me to my thoughts and the mist.


	4. Just Different

Neil fought his way back through the fog. It was a quick walk from the guest house to the dormitories. He made it to his room to find Todd mulling over a history assignment.

"Could I borrow your trig book?" Neil asked, shifting through the jumble of papers on his desk, "I let Barton borrow it and now I'm scared I'm never going to get it back."

Todd leaned over to look through his bag and pulled out his book tossing it over to Neil who threw his coat over his desk chair and bounded on his bed, flipping through its thick pages.

"So what did you think of Charlie's sister?" He asked Todd.

Todd tried to look busy with his things but Neil noticed a crimson shade tint his cheeks.

"You think she's pretty?"

"Well yah," Todd answered, "In her own way. Not like drop dead gorgeous, just a different sort of pretty,"

"Oh," Neil said, turning back to the book in his hands, "I see."

"What do you think of her?" Todd asked, looking over at his best friend.

"Well I think that Charlie's very lucky to have a sister like her. She's smart, but she also is shy," Neil commented, looking up at Todd on that last remark.

"Like me?" Todd asked.

"In her own way; just a different sort of shy." Neil said with a grin.

"Oh."

"You should get to know her; I think you'd like her,"

"Maybe."

Neil shook his head and chuckled. He knew that was all he was going to get out of Todd tonight about Dalton's kid sister.


	5. To Earthward

Dawn did not rid the Wellton campus of the mist. Standing up from my bed and walking over to the window, I looked over at the school. It was already 10:30 and students were walking like zombies from class to class. It made me want to laugh but the growling of my stomach stopped me. I hardly had eaten anything the night before and desperately wanted something to stop my stomach from complaining.

After washing and getting dressed I decided to go downstairs to find out if they had anything fit for human consumption around.

I found my pedal pushers at the bottom of my suitcase and decided to be scandalous and wear them. They were more comfortable anyway. Grandmother found them dreadfully indecent, along with the shirt I chose. It reminded her of a loose woman being a deep red, with pearl buttons down the front, but it didn't bother me much. Pulling on my white sneakers, I threw my coat on and made my way downstairs.

I found the lobby quite deserted and decided to go outside for a walk, since the fog was quite appealing. I always liked the fog. There was something about its presence that reminded me of God, everywhere and almost invisible; omnipresent. The dampness of it made me forget my hunger and urged me to walk on. I came to a footbridge, overlooking a quiet stream, ambitiously racing toward a river.

The sun then began to break the cloud cover, making runs of gold and red in the overcast sky, staining the water like blood. I watched as the mist seemed to die, and slip between my fingers. The autumn sun was claiming one last battle against the approaching winter that would kill the waking world in a few months time.

Nothing gold can stay

A quote from Robert Frost.

It filtered through my mind like the light through the dampness, the warmth through the dark. It made me think of winter differently and of death. It's strange how thoughts from another person, another time, could enter into the musings of different being ten, twenty years after those reflections were first birthed. If I could have that kind of influence, I could do anything.

I looked at my watch, 11:30. They would be breaking for lunch soon. Gathering up my defenses which the sun had worn down, I headed back to the campus.

I reached the guest house just as the students had been let out for lunch. The sun had completely taken over the sky by now and I carried my coat with me, not needing it anymore. I found Neil waiting inside the lobby for me as I entered. He didn't notice me and seemed very much caught up in something he was reading.

"What are you looking at?" I asked as I approached him.

He looked up and gave me a grin than closed the book, "_Midsummer Night's Dream_."

"Ah, what fools these mortals be," I quoted returning the smile.

"You know it?"

"Do I know it? Of all the Shakespearean plays out there, it's the only one I can read multiple times." I explained, "Last summer I was in a production of it."

"Really?" He asked, "You act?"

"I try to," I answered sitting down next to him on the couch, "The director thought I could, so I got the part."

"Who did you play?"

"Helena, my favorite character." I replied.

"Puck's my favorite." He countered, tossing the book in his hands, "In fact I was going to return this today, at the library, while we're on lunch break."

"Well then let's be off," I said as we stood and walked toward the door.

The library was in another section of the building, almost completely separate. It was an old ivy ridden brick fossil, filled with whispers and dust. It was humongous inside; so many books littered the rows and rows of shelves. I don't know why it touched me, but it made me want to cry. Maybe it was because T.C didn't have this big of a library, or maybe because father didn't keep many books at home. Either way I felt as though I had died and gone to heaven. I guess Neil could sense that.

"Oh my," I breathed, as I ran my fingers down the leather bindings.

"You like to read?" He inquired, jarring me from my awe and happiness.

"I love to, the classics, mystery, fiction, even romance once and a while." My fingers stopped at a copy of Robert Frost's collected works. I drew my breath in sharply, "And I love poetry, especially Robert Frost."

I pulled out the copy carefully, as if afraid to hurt it. Dust whirled as I separated the pages, a crinkling sound ensuing. Obviously this volume had not been touched for a while. Running my fingers down the black lettered words, I found my longest and most trusted friends.

".and further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky, proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right, I have been one acquainted with the night."

How I loved those passages and kept them in my mouth as long as possible. Neil's voice brought me out of my trance.

"…two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Neil quoted.

He surprised me. The way he said the words, as if he felt the same love for the letters as I did. I turned to him, still holding the book.

"The Road Not Taken," I grinned, "Do you read much poetry?"

"Yes, quite a lot lately. Frost is a favorite of mine too, but 'The Road Not Taken' isn't my top choice." He said, and took the book from my hands.

"Here," He continued after flipping through the volume a little, "This one,"

I looked over onto the page and found the poem.

"Oh," I said quietly, touching the page, "It is mine as well,"

Neil closed the book and started to quote the poem. I joined in, knowing every word.

"…when stiff and sore and scarred, I take away my hand from leaning on it hard in grass and sand, the hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength, to feel the earth as rough to all my length." We said our voices in a whispered chorus as not to bring the wrath of the librarian upon us.

"To Earthward," I said, "It's probably the best poem of his, in my opinion."

"Definitely," He said, still looking at me, eyes connecting in a single human moment, finding companionship.

I looked down, breaking the spell, and we stood shuffling awkwardly for a few minutes. The bell rang, signifying the return of all the students to the next session.

"Well, I guess you'd better be heading back to class," I said.

"Yah, hey are you going to take this out?" He asked, handing me the dusty tome.

"Oh of course," I said, cradling the book close to my chest.

"Well, are we going to see you tonight at dinner?"

I began to walk up to the librarian's desk, "I guess so, if I'm welcome,"

"Of course," He said, a little too loudly, earning a look from the stern looking gentleman at the desk, "Hello Mr. Cummings,"

The stony cover of the old man soon broke and a smile ruptured across his mouth, "Hello Neil, you're going to be late if you don't get a move on,"

"Yes, Mr. Cummings," He replied, smiling, "So I'll see you tonight?"

"Maybe," I replied with a smile.

Neil took that answer and with a last farewell nod, ran out the library door as quickly as possible.

"Nice boy, that Mr. Perry," The older librarian said, stamping the volume for me.

"Yes," I said under my breath, watching him race to the school in long strides.

It seemed to me that there was more to Neil Perry than what I had thought.


	6. One Acquainted with the Night

I did end up going to dinner that night. I found my seat next to Neil once again, who talked about poetry with the table all evening. It seemed my brother and his friends were very big fans of poetry reading. They were a part of a club called the Dead Poets Society. They had meetings in this old cave out in the woods behind the school.

"Is this a school organized thing?" I asked, actually eating tonight since my self consciousness had given way.

"Well no, Dolls," Charlie said sardonically, "Do you actually think Nolan would let a bunch of guys go out in the middle of the night to read poetry in the woods?"

"Nah, we got the idea from Mr. Keating who actually started the society when he went here," Neil explained.

"So when do you have meetings?" I asked,

"You're not coming to it." Concluded Charlie, looking up at me.

"And why not?" I said, suddenly feeling defensive.

"Because you're my little sister," He replied, "You're Dolly! Stay home and read like you usually do! Anyways you'd be too scared."

"No!" I protested.

"I don't see why she can't go," Said an unexpected voice.

I looked over to see Todd, whom had never uttered a word around me, staring calmly at Charlie with pale, questioning eyes.

"Because, Anderson, she's too little," Charlie said shooting him down as quickly as he had gotten the courage to say something.

"I'll be sixteen next Thursday!" I said, getting very angry at him, "And I'm coming whether you like it or not. Does anyone else _not_ want me to come?"

Nobody said anything. I smirked at Charlie and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and not diverting my eye from his fireball glare.

"When is the next meeting, Neil?"

"Tonight actually," He replied, watching us in amusement. He had said he was an only child so he probably didn't deal with these kinds of confrontations outside of school.

"Alright then, tell me what time and I'll be waiting."

At exactly 11:00, I found myself standing outside in the cool night air, waiting for the guys to sneak out of the dormitory. I had changed to a pair of jeans so I wouldn't freeze and had my fingers stuffed in the pockets of my overcoat.

Just then, I saw flashlights flip on and come out of the building across the way. Jogging toward them, we all kept quiet, running in a group till we were out on the playing fields.

"Rachael! You came!" Stated Meeks, as we dashed across the damp field.

"Of course I came!" I said with a shout of laughter.

It was an exceptionally clear night for the end of October, and I wanted to cherish it as much as possible. Throwing my hood back, I let the wind take me. A burst of mirth erupted from me once more for no apparent reason. In return Cameron looked at me as if I had grown three heads, but I ignored him. Tonight was going to be mine and no one else's.

According to the guys, the cave was an Indian hideout during the French and Indian wars. I didn't really believe them but I let them think I did. The meeting began with the reading of a poem by Thorough, about sucking out the marrow of life. I didn't much like it, but Neil, who led the meeting, seemed entranced by the words.

Next Knox had something he wanted to read,

"It's by Percy Bysshe Shelley," He began, clearing his throat, "_Love's Philosophy_."

"The fountains mingle with the river and the rivers with the ocean.

The winds of Heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion; nothing in the worldis single;

All things by a law divine in one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?-  
See the mountains kiss high Heaven,  
And the waves clasp one another;  
No sister-flower would be forgiven  
If it disdained its brother;  
And the sunlight clasps the earth  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:  
What is all this sweet work worth?  
If thou kiss not me?"

He did a very good job of it, I had to admit. I clapped with the others.

"And to whom was that reading dedicated to?" inquired Pitts jokingly,

Charlie pretended to cough and somehow the word 'Chris' came out. The other boys laughed and clapped Knox on the back good naturedly.

"Who's Chris?" I asked, looking over at Knox.

"A girl," He said, crossing his arms and looking quite miserable.

"Knox suffers from unrequited love," Explained Neil who sat next to me, "She's a girl who lives in town."

"Oh, I see," I mumbled, feeling rather sorry for the guy, as he sat sulking in the corner.

"Who's up next?" Neil asked looking at the group, "Why not you Rachael, as a new member?"

The others agreed, except for Charlie who pretended to not care. Screw him; he needed an attitude change anyway.

"Alright," I said, standing at the head of the cave.

Neil handed me the dark green leather volume. On the cover in silver letters was embossed 'Five Centuries of Verse'. I opened it and flipped through till I found one I liked.

"Okay," I stated, situating the flashlight so I could see better, "This one is by Emily Dickinson. Its called _'Because I Could Not Stop for Death_'," I cleared my throat,

"Because I could not stop for death, he stopped kindly for me.  
The Carriage held by just ourselves and Immortality.  
We slowly drove, he knew no haste.  
And I had to put away my labor and leisure too, for his civility.  
We passed the School where Children strove at Recess- in the Ring-  
We passed fields of Gazing Grain- we passed the Setting Sun.  
Or rather- He passed us; the Dews drew quivering and chill,  
For only Gossamer, my Gown, my Tippet-only Tulle.  
We paused before a House that seemed a Swelling of the Ground,  
The Roof was scarcely visible- the Cornice- in the Ground.  
Since then- tis centuries- and yet, feels shorter than the day.  
I first surmised the Horse's Heads were toward Eternity."

I finished and looked up at them. They clapped politely, even Charlie.

"Good job, Rache," Neil said as I handed him the book, "I think that's the first female poet we've heard here,"

"Really?" I asked, leaning over and picking up a cookie from the jumble of food in the center of the room, "Pity."

Neil grinned and then turned to the group once more, "Anyone else?"

"Todd, why don't you read something?" I asked, turning to the quiet shadow in the back.

He looked up at me like I had just signed his death sentence.

"Todd keeps the minutes of the meetings," Meeks explained.

I nodded, understanding that was asking too much of the painfully shy boy and turned back to the group.

"How about you, Meeks? You want to read?" Knox asked.

"Sure, why not." He said taking the book onto his lap and flipping on his flashlight,

"Hmm lets see here." He leafed through it for a few minutes till he came upon a passage he chose. "It's called 'The Eagle' by Lord Alfred Tennyson."

'He claps the crag with crooked hands;  
Close to the sun in lonely lands,  
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands  
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls  
He watches from his mountain walls  
And like a thunderbolt he falls.' "

He looked up with a grin, "Short but sweet"

An applause was given and things went quiet. No one else had anything to read.

"Well this had been a relatively quick meeting, but that's alright," Neil said, standing from his seat by me, "We'll try to have another meeting before Rache leaves, unless she still wants to come to these."

"Well yes!" I said enthusiastically, smiling at the other boys, "I really enjoyed it."

"Alright then, I believe no one else has a problem with her attending, save for her older brother,"

Charlie smirked but said nothing.

"Alright than, sounds good. Than I declare this meeting of the Dead Poets Society officially over."

We all stood and walked toward the cave opening, Pitts nearly decapitating himself in the process.

"Careful there big boy," Charlie joked, "We can't have you losing your head."

"I'll attempt to stay in one piece," replied Pitts, who rubbed the crown of his head that had met the stone ceiling of the cave.

I smiled. Poor guy. He reminded me of a puppy who had yet to grow completely into its body and was still slipping and falling around, calling the stumbling and occasional tripping that he made 'walking'.

We made out way back to the school, talking periodically, teasing Knox sometimes; sporadically you'd hear the standard 'shut up' from my brother to Cameron.

We made it back to the campus just as the big old clock on the main building's highest torrent chimed eleven.

".and further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky." I quoted as I stopped to gaze up into the moon like face of the giant timepiece.

".proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right." Breathed a voice next to my ear. I looked over to see Neil, looking up at the clock as well. He looked down at me and we finished the verse together.

".I have been one acquainted with the night."

His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but the sharp whistle of Charlie, signaling that they were going back, in stopped him. I smiled softly.

"Night, Rachael." He said, than ran over to the dormitory.

I looked up at the clock one more time, tipped my imaginary hat at it, and walked along my way to the guest house.


	7. Romeo Among The Sycamores

_My lover is radiant and ruddy; outstanding among a thousand._

I blushed and set the book down. Why was I reading Song of Songs? Grandmother always forbade me from looking into that book in the Bible, saying that it wasn't Christian. I would reply with that "if it wasn't Christian, why was it in the Bible". She would never give me a straight answer though, she would always tell me to go get something else to read aloud to her. She was tough love and a sewing needle, but my Grandmother wasn't always that bad. Just from a different time I guess. Tucking the volume back into the shelf, I continued to put away the books.

I had volunteered myself to help out Mr. Cummings in the library for the two weeks to give me something to do while everyone else was in class. I soon found myself laden down with so many leather bound tomes, slipping them into their little homes in the various shelves. Right now I was on the floor, trying to organize the bottom book sills. However, curiosity drove me to take out that book again and flip to that forbidden chapter.

_My lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my lover's and my lover is mine; he browses among to lilies.  
_  
Suddenly a pair of hands went across my eyes,

"Now, now, what would grandmother say if she knew you were reading 'Song of Songs'?" A voice asked.

I smirked and pushed Charlie's hands aside, "The same thing she would think if she knew you had those 'naughty magazines' hidden under your bed." I replied standing and grinning evilly at my brother.

He was only about a half inch taller than me, and it annoyed him so much that we could see eye to eye. He smirked back and tousled my hair like he always did, "Alright then, we're even."

He leaned his back against the book shelf, and continued to inspect his finger tips, "So, you have chained yourself to duty in the rat trap?" he inquired.

He had always called the library the rat trap; don't ask me why because I don't know.

"Yes," I answered kneeling back down again to put away a copy of Dickens that I found among the encyclopedias.

"Say, Rache, would you mind doing me a big favor?" He said, suddenly acting like himself and not the cocky bastard he portrayed so very often.

"What?" I asked, exasperated, not being able to find the second volume of Pride and Prejudice. What kind of hormone charged, self respecting guy would read Jane Austen? I decided it was best not to ask, since I had spied a copy of Mansfield Park on Mr. Cummings' desk.

"Well, Knox hasn't been feeling like himself lately." Charlie explained, "You know, about Chris. I was wondering if you could sort of help him out a bit, you know advice about what to do with girls,"

"You mean you're asking my help?" I inquired turning to him, Charlie never asked my help on anything, "Charlie Dalton is asking his 'kid sister' to help him out. How cute is this," I chuckled as I turned back to the book shelf,

"Oh come on Rachael, I'm not a girl so I wouldn't know how to help him. He's a good kid, he shouldn't have to be feeling this way, rejected I mean," Charlie pleaded.

I sighed and looked over at him, "Alright, alright, I'll help you out," I consented.

Charlie looked at me and smiled, "Thanks Dolls, you're the greatest,"

"Right after I finished with this pile of book, I'll go find him and talk to him, but I can't promise he'll be back to being his chipper old self," I said, continuing to put books away.

"Thanks a ton, kid," He said, straightening up, "You're great Dolls, never change,"

And with that he left me to my thoughts and the books.

I finished the pile and asked Mr. Cummings if I could have a break to go out and get something to eat. He consented with a smile and turned back to his type writer.

The sun was gracious today, and the students seemed content just lie around enjoying the last drops of this year's sun. All except for Mr. Overstreet, who sat forlornly under a tall maple.

"I half expected to find you underneath a sycamore tree," I said coming up beside him and sitting down. He looked at me questionably,

"Why a sycamore tree?" He asked.

"Haven't you been forced to read Romeo and Juliet yet?" I asked crossing my legs in front of me. Today I wore my blue skirt and white button up uniform shirt, just for conformity's sake.

Knox nodded warily, "But what does that have to do with sycamore trees?"

"Well, in the story, when he first thinks he's in love with Rosalind, he mopes about it under sycamore trees. Sycamore trees are for unrequited love, get it? Sick-of-Amore, Amore means love-"

"Yah, yah I get it," Knox said waving his hand.

"Well I found it clever," I commented.

Knox chuckled, "Yah, just what I need, someone to cleverly torture me about Chris,"

"Sorry, I thought it would cheer you up," I said, twisting my ring around my finger.

"It's alright," He answered drearily.

"You know," I said sitting up, "Girls these days can't do all the work,"

I looked off into the distance, but I could tell he was interested.

"What do you mean?" He asked, setting down the dandelion he had been decapitating.

"Well," I said casually, "Us girls, we're brought up being told not to chase, if you get my drift. Let them _call_ you, you never _call_ a boy." I accentuated the word call to get my point across.

"Yah, I guess your right," He replied, "But still, she had a boyfriend,"

"Knox," I said turning to him, "A girls not taken till she's got a ring on her finger," I arched an eyebrow and stood up.

Knox seemed to be processing this information and sat for a while longer.

"Yah, you're right," He stood, "Hey by the way, we have a meeting this afternoon,"

"Alright, I'll be there," I answered, "But now I have to get back to the library,"

"Okay,"

I turned to leave the cool shade of the tree, the leaves on the ground crunching underneath my black Mary Jane shoes.

"Hey Rachael,"

I turned back.

"Thanks," Knox said grinning.

"Anytime Romeo," I replied and made my way back to the library.


	8. Many Reasons For Mirth

I guessed that Wednesdays at the library were pretty slow because barely anybody came in. Mr. Cummings said it was the slow day in the week, and I believed it. But the shelves and books were in major disrepair, which gave me plenty of time. Mr. Cummings was too old to keep up with everything. Also he had hurt his back in the First World War, and it had grown worse over the years.

"Rachael!" Said a voice, something I had not heard for a while in the tomb like stillness of the library.

I turned to see Neil come in from the air outside that had chilled down quite a bit from the afternoon heat. He had his long school overcoat on and was holding a quite outrageous lamp. The shade was torn up and dirty, while the stand was of a drudgy looking man.

"What is that?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"Tis the god of the cave, mi'lady," He said in a mock British accent.

"The god of the cave?" I chuckled, unable to hold in giggle.

"Yes, and do not ridicule his majesty," He replied coming up beside me and setting the lamp down on the floor where I sat.

Crouching down beside me, he picked out a book from the shelf, "Hmm, what is this, I see, sonnets of Shakespeare."

He opened it up, and I watched anxiously as he turned the crinkled pages, hoping that they wouldn't tear.

"Neil, I just put that book away-"

"Shh, shh!" He insisted putting a finger to his lips, "Be quiet while I'm reading."

Dramatically, he stood and read aloud, "Let me not to the marriage of two minds; love is not love, which changes when its alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove," He knelt down again, "Oh tis an ever fixed mark, that stares tempests down and blah blah blah,"

He slammed the book together with a shout of laughter and put it back in its place.

"Neil careful, that copy's from before the turn of the century, you don't want to get Mr. Cummings upset," I scolded.

"Ah whatever, Mr. Cummings is from the turn of the century," I was thankful that he wasn't in the library at the moment to hear that, but my thankfulness was stopped when Neil pulled me up to my feet and grabbed the lamp.

"Come along, everyone else is at the cave," He said starting toward the door.

"I'll be along in a little while," I said, "I have to finish up here."

I turned back to the case.

"No,"

I looked back over at Neil, who stood leaning against the case.

"Excuse me?" I inquired, putting my hands on my hips.

"No," He said, this time grinning.

Pushing the lamp into my arms, he literally picked me up, the god of the cave in my hands and all, and started walking toward the door.

"Neil Perry, what has gotten into?" I almost shouted, laughing.

"This," He said setting me down.

I smoothed out my skirt and set the lamp down, as Neil fumbled in his coat pocket for something.

"I found out about it yesterday, but since I didn't see you I couldn't tell you," He explained handing me the bent piece of paper, "Since you didn't inform me that you were going to be helping out here for the rest of your vacation I didn't know where you were."

It was true; I had missed him since Monday when I went to my first meeting of the society. I unfolded the paper and saw in bold letters that Henley Hall declared it would be giving open tryouts for a production of a Midsummer Night's Dream.

"This is wonderful," I said, a little unsure, "But what is it for?"

"What is it for?" He asked breathless with excitement, "Rachael, it's an opportunity to show what I really want to do!"

"Act?"

"No ballet dance," He said sarcastically, "Of course act! Rachael, can't you see how great this is for me,"

I looked up at him and smiled, "It's wonderful, and when are the try outs?"

"Tomorrow," He said, smiling so wide his lips took up half his face at least.

"Well good luck, I know you'll do well," I replied handing the paper back to him.

"Could you come with me to the try outs?" He asked.

I wasn't expecting that, but I smiled and nodded, "Sure, if you want me to,"

"Alright," He said, "Let's get going to that meeting though,"

He picked up the lamp and started the leave.

"Wait, what about Mr. Cummings?" I asked.

He turned, walking backwards and shrugged with a lopsided grin, "Carpe Diem?"

I put the books I had been sorting on a table and followed Neil out to the woods.

We made it to the cave just as everyone was settling into start and we were met by a chorus of, "Neil! Rache!"

Surprisingly Charlie quieted things down from the noisy state it had been in, but only he could get racket to stop by creating only more racket. He had brought that god awful saxophone with him. Generally he was very good, but now he was pulling that stunt that he had done so often with me where he blow a short and out of tune note as loud as possible. Grandmother had made him take clarinet till he was about twelve. He revolted, however, when he was thirteen and took up the saxophone.

He proceeded to play a string of horrible, squeaky notes and quote 'poetruim by Charles Dalton', and ended in a brassy, show off riff, that actually wasn't that bad.

I now noticed Knox, sitting in the corner. He looked much worse than he had earlier that day.

After the 'poem', we all clapped politely.

"I can't take it anymore," Came an outburst from Knox, "If I don't have Chris, I'm going to kill myself."

That part scared me and I looked at Charlie in alarm.

"Calm down, Knoxcious," He said to his friend.

"No, no," Knox said getting up and grabbing his coat.

"What are you going to do," I asked him from across the room.

He looked up at me with a grin, "I'm going to call her," He said and turned around.

I let out a happy yawp with the rest of the boys and we all stood and ran after him, Charlie playing another crazy song on his instrument.

"Oh I want to see," I said sadly as we ran back after an exhilarated and confident Knox.

"I know what you can do!" Said Meeks, "Put your coat on and pull up the hood. Stick in the middle of us, you're tall for a girl, they'll never know the difference, anyways all the teachers are in their rooms helping with tutoring and stuff,"

I smiled and prayed it would work because I was not going to miss this.


	9. Absurd and Beautiful and Small

I smiled as I ran a brush through my wet hair. I had managed to sneak into the dorms the day before to see Knox make his move. He had managed to get himself to a party this Saturday which I found sort of funny, considering she was going to call him about it. So much for my genius advice, but oh well, it didn't matter now. He was now bouncing all over the place, cocky as hell, almost as bad as Charlie.

I stood in my in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to straighten my hair. Of course this ended in a major battle, which I eventually won by just a little. I looked out the window at the clock. It was 3:30 and Neil's try outs started at 4:00. Pulling on my jeans and a sweater over my white t- shirt, I rummaged under my bed for my shoes. Just as I got about half way under, I heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called, underneath the bed.

I heard the door open, "Rachael?" It was Neil, "Where are you?"

Considering I was on my stomach, I bent my left knee, sending my calf up as high as possible. I heard him laugh and kneel down.

"What are you doing down there?" He asked, giving my ankle a tug.

"Well, attempting to find a shoe would be the case," I replied, beginning to draw myself out from underneath the bed.

I had managed to get one of the stubborn shoes and emerged from the dusty darkness that had engulfed me.

"Well, here's one of them," I said holding up the sneaker like a prize.

Neil sat next to me, trying to hold back a smile, but it was futile, "You might want to look in the mirror," He said beginning to laugh out loud.

I stood, confused and went to the bathroom mirror. I looked in the reflection to see that my damp hair looked like it had erupted underneath the bed. The static from the carpet made it dry quickly crazy wisps all over the place. Neil came into the bathroom and when he saw me again, started laughing louder, and I joined in. We laughed till we couldn't stand anymore and ended up on the tiled floor, laughing so hard we started to cry. To this day I still don't know why we had that outburst, I mean my hair had done that before and it usually wasn't very funny so why now?

When finally we had calmed down, and weren't hysterical anymore, I proceeded to wet down a comb and straighten my hair while Neil dug under the bed and found my other shoe.

He had managed to barter with Knox for me to borrow his bike and we started out on the road. The sun was a golden crown that reigned over the trees that seemed to be on fire with dying October.

We barely talked on the way to town. Neil was too nervous to and I was transfixed by the trees that swayed in colors of passion and light. It made me lose my breath.

We made it to the hall just as try outs began. The theater was small but served its purpose. Neil was so anxious I swore he nearly turned back many times, but he kept muttering 'Carpe Diem' to himself which kept him going. We were all seated; I took a place a little farther away from those trying out and watched as the director progressed to explain the entire script, as if no one in there had ever even heard of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ before. I sat by and looked at Neil from time to time. He looked determined and I wished him luck again.

"Now, those trying out for the part of Puck please stand," said the stuffy woman with the black scarf.

Neil stood with three other gentlemen. I crossed my fingers for him.


	10. I'd Really Love to Try

He shone.

I sat breathless as he said the lines as if they were just coming right than from the tip of his tongue.

"I am that merry wanderer of the night; I jest to Oberon and make him smile."

I don't know why but I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. I always had a pen I carried with me everywhere back then. For whenever inspiration would strike, I guess. I jotted down a few lines, not even realizing what I was writing. Neil continued his monologue, as I wrote. I looked up and saw him looking at me for a minute. I smiled and he looked away with the flow of the Shakespearean verse. I glanced back down at my paper and wrote down another line.

"Excellent, Mr. Perry, excellent," Said the director, applauding him as he finished.

I clapped along and smiled. He walked off the stage and took his seat next to me.

"You were so good," I whispered, as the next person got up to try out, even though it was futile; Neil had it in the bag.

"You think so?" He inquired, smiling at the stage.

I looked over at him, "I know so,"

He turned his gaze to me, sitting in those auditorium seats. His eyes questioning but then his grin took over. I smiled softly back and put the piece of paper deep in my pocket.

We didn't leave right then, because we wanted to see the others who would try out. It was about a half an hour after all the parts had been completed.

"Thank you all for trying out," Said the director standing up, "Results will be posted by Saturday."

I stood with Neil and we began to leave but the director stopped him.

"May I talk with you for a moment?" She asked, "Alone."

Neil looked back and me and I shrugged, "Go ahead, I'll be outside." I said, turning and walking toward the door.

It was already dusk and there was just a little light left. Taking out my paper, I looked over the words and began to add in and edit what I wished on the little parchment piece. Resting my arms on the railing, I used it as a makeshift table.

The sound of the door opening drew me away from my musings.

"What did she want?" I asked, putting my pen away.

"She was telling me about how I did a good job and all that." He said, looking down at his feet.

"And." I said, trying to draw more of the conversation out of him.

He looked up with a smile, "And I've nearly got the part."

"Oh that's wonderful Neil!" I said excitedly, "When is the play by the way?"

"Christmas Vacation," He replied coming up beside me, "What's that you were writing on?" he asked looking down at my paper.

"Nothing," I said, trying to put it in my pocket, but my gloves got in the way.

"Oh come on, Rachael, what is it?" He said, trying to snatch it away from me good naturedly.

"Nothing," I said jerking my hand back, "It's just some verse I scribbled down during your try outs."

He reached out his other hand and grabbed it from my fingers.

"Poetry huh?" He said with a chuckle, opening the paper and starting to walk, with me chasing after him.

I really, really didn't want him to read it just now.

"Neil, please," I pleaded, but knew it was too late. His eyes were scanning the paper.

Angry as anything at him I crossed my arms in front of my chest and started to walk away down the road. I knew the words he was reading right now. I felt so mortified, to have him read them, they were too personal at the time. 

_ "I watch you smile, you steal the show_

you take a bow, the curtain falls in front of you

you're magical, on display

I gaze into your eyes and you turn to look the other way

Standing still, but in my mind  
Trying to escape, looking for a place to hide

well it's not safe but I'm so near

Invading every place you go to disappear

But I'd really love to know

I'd really love to climb my way into your heart

and see what I could find

I'd walk into your skin, Swim through your veins

See it from your eyes, I'd really love to try""Rachael," He called, running up to me. I turned toward his voice, not able to look at him out of embarrassment and fury, "Rachael, I don't know what to say. This is beautiful," I saw him hold it out. I reached and grasped it from his hand.

I stuffed it in my pocket and looked up at him. I felt so stupid I could've cried, but his eyes were beseeching.

"Please don't be angry with me," He pleaded.

I sighed and felt my face melt, "It's alright," I mumbled.

"Did you mean it?" He asked.

I looked over at him again, "Mean what?"

"What you wrote."

I shrugged and started toward the bikes, "I guess so," I said, not knowing if I should tell him the truth.

"Oh," He said in a tone that made me stop and turn. He sounded sort of disappointed.

"Come on Neil," I said with a smile, "Just a minute ago you were bubbly as hell, why the change?"

"Well I hadn't read your poem a minute ago," He answered, looking up at me.

I walked right up to him and smiled, "Well than that was your own fault," I said.

He looked down at me, a small grin breaching his face, "I guess so," He commented quietly, not breaking eye contact.

His hand went to my waist and began to pull me closer; I could feel his breath feather my hair. I rested my own hands on his elbows, my fingers were trembling. My lungs quickened as he leant down to my face, his lips so close. However, the sound of the school bell, a good mile away, shattered the moment. It broke the sporadic instant right before we kissed.

"We-We'd better get back," I stuttered quietly, staring at his collared neck, covered by his coat. I was so close I could see the white stitching, lining it, "Dinner will begin a little while."

"Yah, we'd better," Neil agreed, the words falling warm with his breath against my neck and ear.

We pulled away and walked back to the bikes. We were almost as quiet as we were on the ride to Henley Hall.

We go back just as the dinner bell rang. Dinner was late on Thursdays at Wellton.

"Thank you for being there for me today," Neil said opening the door for me.

"You're welcome," I replied.

I was casual as could be, but inside I was screaming.

Jars of Clay


	11. Unearthing the Muse

The guys must have noticed something different about Neil and I. There seemed to be a wall of unfamiliar politeness about us, like we had just met. They didn't say anything outright, however, if they had sensed a changed. That is, except for Todd.

Mr. Cummings had me working on the encyclopedia section today. The cool Monday morning air announced that November had settled in. Being the first day of the month, however, meant that two days from then I was going to be turning 16. I threw the thought away, but hope lingered in my mind that perhaps dad would send me a card or call me or something. Charlie would remember or course, he always remembered my birthday, even when I turned eight. Even on that day of all days, he managed to make me a card. Everyone had forgotten, my dad, my grandparents.

"Rachael?" I heard a voice say from behind me.

I turned to see Todd standing in the sunlight. He seemed very uncomfortable, for some odd reason. His light eyes skipping over my face like a rock on water.

"Todd?" I said standing and walking over to him with a smile, "What are you doing out of class?"

He shrugged, "Actually no classes are going on right now." He replied, glancing down at his feet.

I looked up at the clock. It was four o'clock, gosh the time had flown, last time I checked it had been two.

"Oh," I breathed, shifting the heavy weight of the books to my other arm.

"Would you like me to lend a hand?" He asked.

"Sure, I would love some help here," I said, leading him over to the shelf where I had cleared out all the encyclopedias. The large, hard bound books all lay discarded on the floor in piles arranged by alphabetical order.

"If you'll help me out putting them all back up, that would be wonderful," I said beginning with the "A" pile. Todd followed me and quietly lifted the books onto the shelf. A silence commenced for quite a while, making it uneasy but quick work.

"Now I know you didn't come here to help me shelve books," I said breaking the dusty hush that had coated us like the damp sunlight coming through the windows.

"No," He grunted, lifting four of the books onto the shelf, "I actually came here to talk to you about what happened when you went with Neil to his try outs."

That took me off guard. I could see perhaps Charlie asking me, or any other one of the guys. But not Todd, who scarcely even muttered a solitary hello. I didn't know what to say, so I told him the truth,

"Nothing happened," I said, stopping my work and propping my back up against the shelf, Todd kneeled down next to me, "Almost, but."

The sound of the door opening with a whack against the white wall, made both of us sit and up and look toward the entrance. Neil stood breathless and smiling.

"What's the matter?" I asked standing up, as he raced over.

"Rachael!" Neil cried running up to me. He picked me up a in twirling embrace.

"What? What happened?" I asked laughing slightly as he set me down.

"I got it!" He replied, his hands on my shoulders, smiling so wide I thought his lips would leave his very face, "I got the part,"

"The-the part?" I asked, "You got Puck!"

"Yes!" He said, laughing a little.

And he just stood there, smiling at me. Todd coughed behind us. I turned, Neil letting go of my shoulders.

"Did you get that letter off to Nolan?" He asked, coming up to us.

"Yes, I wrote it exactly like my father would've," Neil answered with a chuckle.

Todd cracked a smile, and gave me one last look, "I have to go finish some work now,"

"Alright, thanks for the help," I replied.

He nodded and headed for the door.

"What were you two doing?" Neil asked, as he followed me over to the shelf,

"Oh, Todd just dropped into the library and helped me out a bit with the reference section," I picked up a 'c' volume and put it next to the last 'b' we had gotten situated on the sill, "He's certainly the quiet sort isn't he?"

Neil chortled and picked up a second volume twirling it around in his hands, "I just can't believe it,"

"What?" I asked, looking over at him. He sat with his back to the book shelf, flipping through the leafy worn pages of the ancient index.

"I have wanted to do this for so long, to act, to be on stage," He breathed, cherishing every moment, every word as if it were his last, "To be able to get into the skin, per say, of a thousand different people." He looked at me with a smile, at that comment.

I blushed and looked down.

"Do you write poetry often?" He asked, I didn't look up but concentrated on straightening the stubborn shelf.

"Sometimes," I replied, standing, "When the muse strikes I guess,"

"Well I think I've found where my muse has been hiding for the past seventeen years," He said, putting the book on the shelf, "Oh Rachael, you have no idea. It's not only that I got the part in the play and that I'm finally doing what I love, its, it's the simple fact that what I'm doing isn't being planned by anyone, or ordered of me," He stared off at the window, at the setting sun, "Its something inside of me that's finally finding,"

"Freedom." I interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. How I wished I could be like that, to unearth liberation.

"Freedom," He repeated, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

I didn't know what that was like, to find emancipation. I had lived with chains for so long. Irons of guilt and memories, pain and grief etched into me from so long ago. Eight years it had been. Eight long years, and still my soul seemed to fighting against itself, a constant battle with my mind and heart.

The long burning trail of a tear slid across my cheek. It brought me out of my mind's suppressive expanse, and back into that warm autumn afternoon of the dying year of 1959.

"Hey, hey," Neil said, turning to me, noticing that I was upset. His hand went to mine that lay on top of the books. He took it in his fingers, the very weight of them calming me, giving me peace.

"I'm fine," I choked, composing myself, "I'm fine, I'm just, I'm happy for you Neil. I'm glad you got the role."

"What's the matter? Just a few minutes ago you were smiling?" He questioned, still trying to figure out the reason for my sudden mood swing.

"It's nothing, truly," I replied, taking my hand away from his and trying to get my mind on the task Mr. Cummings had assigned me.

"Alright then," He said, resigning to the fact that something was bothering me but I wasn't going to tell him, not now anyway.

I felt his touch on my cheek, as he turned me to face him. He put both hands on either side of my face, his fingers deep in my hair. His breath was warm and soft on my face as he spoke.

"If you ever, need anyone to talk to, about anything, I mean absolutely anything; you know you can come to me right?" He questioned.

I nodded and bit my lip. Why was this person, this boy whom I had just met not a week ago making such an impact on me? Why did he make me consider telling him all of it, everything, stuff even my brother didn't even know about? Much more, why did I feel like crying when he looked at me this way? His fingers stroked my cheek, after untangling themselves from my hair. I felt so weak, so vulnerable. I almost dropped the books I clutched to my chest.

"Alright," He said drawing away, my breath still trembling from his touch and the onset of emotions that came with it.

I gave a fragile smile, and turned my glance away from him, staring back down at the floor.

"Neil!" A voice called.

We both looked up to see Meeks coming in from the outside, a cool blast of air escaping in with him.

"Neil, quick study group, since McAllister is giving that huge exam on the third principal part tomorrow," He said, throwing a smile over to me as he spoke.

I smiled back softly and knelt down beside my dusty tomes once again.

"Oh yah! I forgot, I was so excited about the play." Neil mused, "Thanks for reminding me,"

I heard his footsteps begin to lead away from me. I looked over at his tall figure. His grin was unsure as he talked, "So you sure you're fine?"

I nodded, "I'm okay, I promise."

"Alright than, I'll see you later," He said and followed Meeks out the door. I sniffed and turned back to the shelf. It was only half full and I already was this weak. I wondered how I would lift the rest of the books, and I knew I couldn't do it alone.


	12. Forgetful Nuwanda

My birthday came faster than I thought, but with no wistful notes or phone calls congratulating me on successfully reaching my sixteenth year. It didn't bother me; I was expecting a pretty dry birthday anyway. I didn't tell any of the guys when the day dawned. Fridays always made me tired; they were the longest days of the week, just trying to get to Saturday. Unfortunately that was the day of the week my birthday fell on this year.

I love mornings where you wake up, and the sun is completely drowned out by the rain. Usually daybreaks are too harsh for me. It seems as though the day will never end. But mornings when rain drenches the ground and soaks into your mind and skin, those are the kinds I wake for.

I lay in bed extra long that day. I shifted my weight between the sheets. For some odd reason, this birthday morning didn't seem as bad as the others. It had been so long since I felt content on this day, much less civil. I hated this date, and that loathing had branded my soul at an early age. But today I was different and I didn't know why. Maybe it was my dream. Reminiscences of it kissed my memory as I sat up on my elbows and looked out the window. Silver droplet after silver droplet fell outside the clear pane, silver like my ring on my index finger, my hand. He had held my hand, and my face cradled in his palms. Maybe it was that, maybe Neil was the reason for my ecstasy this morning.

I dropped myself back down into the sheets with a timid grin as an answer to the thoughts that entered my mind. I rolled over onto my face and laughed into the pillow, hugging it close to me. Was I crazy? I didn't know, maybe it had to do with nothing, and everything at the same time. Maybe it was stupid, but if this was stupidity, than God let me feel this way forever. I threw the covers back and stretched to the ceiling, the floor cold under the bare soles of my feet, November cold.

Walking over to the window I stared down into the mist. It covered the courtyard like confused spirits. There were probably many ghosts clinging to these halls and rooms. Thoughts and laughter never to be heard again by bodies that had long been sucked in by the earth, but spirits that couldn't let go of life, of stars and rain, of the sun and moon, of hot coffee and cigarettes, yet couldn't even exist. Morning thoughts are always the funniest and foggiest of the day.

I took the morning slow, the clouds not clearing up till mid afternoon which was about the time I went down to the library. The day went by quickly, and Meeks was the only one who made it to the dusty tomb of forgotten volumes to tell me about that night's meeting. I kept expecting Charlie to come down and wish me a happy birthday like he always did, but he never did. I blew it off with a smile, thinking either he had gotten in trouble again or had gone for extra help to a teacher. I nixed the latter idea and wondered when I would hear about his latest caper that terrorized the school. Nothing came, nobody came, but I didn't let it bother, or I tried to keep it from bothering me.

I stayed in my room for dinner, wishing to have some time alone. The library had been exceptionally busy that afternoon, which I found to be quite a surprise. I guessed it was because it was a Friday and the students wanted to get their homework out of the way for the weekend. I didn't blame them, considering the amount of slave labor they were given each week. I'd want a break too, even if it was just for two days.

I read a little while I waited for the clock to strike 10:00. Pulling my thick dark blue sweater on over my blouse and lacing up my high tops, I remembered that Knox's party was this evening. I said a quick prayer for him, than ran out the door, grabbing my coat as I closed the door behind me. The loud echoing vocals of the impatient clock, that was fast two minutes I noted, sounded through the halls, like funeral bells. I quickened my pace down the steps and out into the night air that hit me over the head hard. Puffs of transparent white escaped my lips, my feet shuffled against the ground as I waited for the guys.

One by one, the shimmering shadows of black against the grey emerged from the building and I ran up to meet them. Like the other times, we were as silent as the clock was loud, till we were out of ear shot. We whooped and hollered our way to the cave. Though I could not distinguish between the figures, I could tell who yelled what. It's funny how familiar you get with the characteristics of people. I immediately recognized Pittsy's deep bellow, rising above the tenor yell of Meeks. Cameron's high, shrill call had me smiling while Neil seemed to call out to the night in short, yet loud roars. My own breathy yet lengthy shrieks covered over Todd who would let out a barely audible shout among the myriad of howls and hoots that serenaded the stars in a noisy hymn. But Charlie's wasn't sounded, and I wondered where he was once we got to the cave and started the meeting.

"To live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life," We spoke, when foreign giggles came from outside. Foreign, female giggles.

"Oh my god," Cameron spoke, his cheeks almost matching his hair in a bright crimson.

My brow furrowed, as I watched the entrance to the cave. Two frilly voices sounded, and took me by surprise, along with my brother's voice.

"Is this it?" Asked one girl.

"Yeah, this is it. Go ahead, go on in." Came Charlie as he helped the girls into the cave, "It's my cave. Watch your step."

I snorted a laugh at that comment and looked around at my comrades to see if they had anything to say to Charlie claiming the cave as his own, but they were all dumbstruck when the two broads walked in. I didn't have to admit they were prettier than me, and older, and had a few feminine qualities I lacked terrible, like a chest, but still they hadn't acted like this when I was introduced. Maybe it was because I was Charlie Dalton's kid sister. I looked over at Neil who had a bemused grin on his face, but it was obvious he was equally as struck as the other boys around us. His eyes pierced my heart, and they weren't even looking at me.

The two blondes stumbled in, friendly and flaky as expected in the girls my brother chased. He was one of those boys who went after girls who were in essence, as stupid as they came. My brother liked being the smart one, which was hard to do.

"Hello," They spoke, their voices like those songs on the radio. They're eyes expertly skipped over my own figure in the corner and I knew what they had come for. Not poetry, not companionship, but to satisfy their little Friday night by playing with a few boarding school girl deprived boys, and I was in their territory. I backed up and watched the scene.

"Hey, you guys," My brother said, not in his normal tone I noted, "This is Gloria, and uh,"

"Tina," The girl in blue corrected, she was obviously the tagalong.

"Tina," My brother repeated, turning back to the group, "This is the pledge class of the Dead Poets Society."

Pledge class? What the hell was he talking about? The boys muttered hellos and welcomes, their eyes as big as the girl Gloria's obvious assets and I rolled my eyes. They moved out of the way as they headed over to sit down.

"Guys, I have an announcement to make," He stated and I waited for a good one, "In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charlie Dalton. From now on, call me Nuwanda."

Oh my god. Nuwanda was the name of his stuffed giraffe that he used to sleep with. Whenever he wet the bed as a kid, he would blame it on Nuwanda. Nuwanda did it, dad. I chuckled in the corner, he had yet to even notice my presence, or he had already and was choosing to pretend to ignore me. I watched as he took the Barbie doll Tina's lipstick and proceeded to draw on his face like a kid who had gotten into his mother's make up. And the girls ate it up. That was typical.

"So are we gonna have a meeting or what?" Charlie asked after his little spectacle.

"Yeah. If you guys don't have a meeting, how do we know if we wanna join?" Gloria asked, making me let out an amused chuckle.

Gloria looked over at me indifferently and her eyebrows rose with her lips, "Whos she?"

Charlie finally looked over at me in the corner like I was some hobo on the street, "Oh that's just my kid sister,"

"Oh," Tina said looking me up and down. I crossed my arms in front of my chest uncomfortably.

Either Neil noticed my agitation or he was just as uncertain as me but he broke the silence, "Wait, join?"

Charlie disregarded Neil's comment and leaned over to Tina, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He spoke as sweetly as any idiot with lipstick on his cheeks calling himself Nuwanda could. And any idiot out there also knows who wrote that verse, but not good ol' Tina.

"That's so sweet," She cooed.

"Made that up just for you," He played along, "I'll write one for you too, Gloria." He said walking over to where she had situated herself, "She walks in beauty like the night. She walks in beauty like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies. All that's best, dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes."

"That's beautiful." Gloria purred in return.

"There's plenty more where that came from," Charlie replied.

That was it I couldn't hold my tongue anymore, we didn't come here to flirt or spout poetry and call it our own for dumb broads who couldn't tell Elvis from Emerson.

"Yeah," I spoke spitefully, drawing all the eyes in the cave toward me, "And you can find it all in a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets."

I earned a chuckle from the boys, looks of utter stupidity from the girls and the hairy eyeball from my brother. I smirked back. I was not happy with dear Charles at that moment.

"Ah haul off, Rachael," He replied, "The only reason why you know that is because you have nothing better to do with your time that read books. How about getting some friends, huh?"

The girls giggled and looked over at me with mocking eyes as I sunk into the shadows. So what? It was true I was better friends with the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, and Jonathan Swift, but whose business was it other than my own? What's more was that it was coming from my big brother. Sure we had our tiffs sometimes, but he never had humiliated me like that. Especially on my birthday of all days. He knew this day was hard for me. He knew.

Tina conveniently situated herself next to Neil, whom she'd been eyeing all night. She took out a little bottle she had in her coat and took a dainty swig, passing it on to Neil. He took a drink as well, no surprise to me, and by this point I didn't care and ignored the conversation, trying to ignore the persistent envy that I had toward these girls. There was a small strangled part of me that would have given anything to be one of them at that moment, but I brushed it aside as best as possible.

Suddenly a part of the conversation caught my interest and not in a good way.

"In fact, I'd like to announce I published an article in the school paper, in the name of the Dead Poets." Charlie stated casually.

I looked up in alarm. An article? Charlie? This would not end well, I could tell.

"Demanding girls be admitted to Wellton." He proclaimed like Caesar himself.

My mouth dropped several feet to the ground, as did everybody else's.

"How did you do that?" Neil questioned, everybody else too numb to say anything.

"I'm one of the proofers. I slipped the article in." He said, proudly, "And why should we worry? Nobody knows who we are,"

"Well, don't you think they're gonna figure out who wrote it? They're gonna come to you and ask to know what the Dead Poets Society is. Charlie, you had no right to do something like that." Cameron chided what everybody else wanted to say.

"Are we just playing around out here, or do we mean what we say? For all we do is come together and reach a bunch of poems to each other. What the hell are we doing?" He said, brushing Cameron off.

"All right, but you still shouldn't have done it, Charlie. This could mean trouble. You don't speak for the club." Neil spoke, standing up and facing Charlie.

"Hey, would you not worry about your precious little neck?" Charlie spat, "If they catch me, I'll tell them I made it up."

"It's not that easy," I found myself saying as I jumped into the conversation, "If your headmaster if anything like my headmistress, he won't let this slip. He'll get to the bottom of this; I've seen it at my school-"

"Isn't that nice Rachael?" Charlie said turning to me, "Well, why don't you skip back over to your little girl's school and leave us alone? You're not even involved, just go crawl into a hole or something,"

"Charlie-" I started, trying to reason with him.

"It's Nuwanda, Rachael," He corrected taking a swig from the bottle.

"Yeah, it's Nuwanda," echoed Gloria looking over at me condescendingly.

Charlie arched his eyebrows, "Why don't you just go home to daddy, Rachael," He spit, "He seems to like you a whole lot better than me, but don't fuck up because you're just bragging rights to him and nothing more," Silence descended, and I saw Charlie bite his tongue.

I stood and walked out, running down the hill.

"Damnit Charlie," I heard Neil mutter and soon footsteps echoed behind me.


	13. Sleeping Beauty

**1951**

Jake Carver had been mean to me, and I was angry, stomping home with my pink bow holding my hair from my eyes and little eight year old chicken legs bringing me home from my humiliating day at school. I sniffed away the angry tears, my shirt torn at the sleeve and skinned knees. He had called my mother a bad word, probably had heard it from his own parents, jerk. I had tackled him on the playground, and straddled the little worm on the cold cement, paddling his pitiful head with my fists. I didn't even know what the word meant, but I did know that whore was a bad word, and that my mother wasn't one. But he had said it, plain as day, and I had to teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, the teacher felt that this lesson was not educational and had sent me home for the rest of the day while Jake got away with his mean comments, sitting in the office nursing his bloody nose with his mommy dearest fussing over her chubby little soap boy while giving me evil looks. I deserved them, according to her, I had hindered her son and I was the daughter of an adulteress, a jezebel. _Scorn her from your midst, punish her body to save her soul_, that's what the teacher had said in Jane Eyre, and now they were applying the same principle. And they sent me home. It had been November.

I walked home and arrived just as one o'clock sounded and our huge house vibrated with the single dongs of the dozen or so clocks that were situated around the many rooms. I opened the door, hoping to find my mother in the kitchen to clean up my skinned knees and wipe away my angry tears. She was the quintessential 1950s house wife and my god. The world revolved around my beautiful mother, my boring corporate father was merely a facet and my older brother was my joker. Charlie had always been an entertainer.

My shoes clicked on the lonely marble floor as I walked down the front hall toward the kitchen, but found nobody in there. I turned around and walked upstairs toward my parent's room. Everything was eerily clean and spotless, usually my mother kept the house fairly neat, with her army of housemaids. But everything looked perfect, and the white carpet made the dried trail of blood from my knee stand out as I tip toed through the house. I came into my mother's room, everything just as clean and beautiful. Mommy was on the bed, sleeping it seemed. She was dressed in her silk slip and chemise, her legs bare and pale. Her auburn hair was spread out in an amber puddle on the pillow. She was ghostly white, her red nails clutching the bed spread and I approached her quietly. I was so proud of my beautiful mommy. I finally approached her peaceful figure and laid my hand on her shoulder. Her skin was so cold and I jerked my fingers back as if I had been burned. That scared me.

"Mommy?" I whispered, waiting for her eyelashes to flutter, "Mommy? Are you awake?"

She didn't move. I shook her. She still was as stiff as ever. I began to panic and shook her harder, crying quietly, calling her name, then I broke down and started to sob loudly and threw myself beside her and wrapped her frigid arm around my shaking body, crying so hard. Oh my god, no, no this isn't happening. It isn't anything, she's playing with me, and she's okay. Oh god why won't you move!? Oh Jesus! I scream in my dreams shaking the wax woman on her bed of clean white sheets and I don't get anywhere, and I can't go on like this, oh god why?

Daddy found me that way when he got home two hours later; bringing his lawyer to tell his wife they were getting a divorce. Instead, he ended up finding his daughter crying, curled up beside his dead wife. Mother took some bad medicine that made her die because she couldn't live without daddy.

Mother went to heaven eight years ago; she became an angel on my birthday


	14. Drawn to the Rhythm

I ran from the cave, like Snow White running from horrible nightmares of dark, wrenching fingers, tearing at my face, hands and heart; Trying to get to me through their strange voices and unearthly melodies. I ran so hard I felt I would burst till finally I fell, somewhere in the woods. I didn't know where I was and I didn't care.

I hadn't cried over mother since that day, and now the tears came so hard, built up over so long, I thought I would drown in the salt of it. Chilling my soul and turning me to cold dust. Some memories are poison to the mind and they eat away like acid at you till you are bitter and angry. I hadn't opened up this thought since I was very young; it was like Pandora's Box. Evil and seductive and I took it like a pomegranate from Hades, hanging before me on a silver branch.

"Rachael!" Came a voice.

"Rachael!"

It was louder and closer.

My hand grasped the tree that supported my back with its hoary, rough trunk. I watched a tall shadow move through the trees, shades of grey.

"I'm here," I called out in my shaky voice, it slipped through the branches of the trees like a winter breeze, terrified and cold.

The figure moved, it had a flashlight with it, "Rachael?" It came closer and I realized it was Neil as he shined the light on my face, my eyes red and hair a mess.

"Oh Rachael," He said approaching me, but not sure what to do with me.

I was like a stray dog that you want to take into your arms and love, but are too wary for fear of being bitten.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, but the shaking in my voice soon gave way to more tears that came silently.

"I'm sorry, Rachael," He said.

Betrayal isn't anything that can be mended with an apology. Especially when its one of the ones who you idolize who has done the betraying. Like your big brother who used to make sure that things turned out alright, and that you didn't have ice cream on your shirt.

I didn't notice that he had dropped the flashlight and advanced closer to me, till finally he took my shaking, broken body in his arms and held me while I wept. I pressed my hands and face into his chest, and drew comfort from his bones and flesh till finally for a moment I felt we were breathing and beating as one, lungs, heart, breath, all in unison. Drawn to the rhythm inevitable, we had felt this for one another the first we met. Something together and whole, pure.

I drew back from him and looked up into his face. Our chests were heaving and our cheeks were damp and pale with cold.

He dug his fingers into my hair and looked me in the eyes.

"What happened?" His voice drifted, warm breath over my skin, "Something happened that you're not telling me about."

I stuttered, "How do you know?"

"What happened?"

My knuckles had turned white, clutching his coat so tight, like I was afraid he would fly away from me, "Today," I started, "Eight years ago, my mother died, and I found her," I stopped as the tears began to drip down my face, not bitter and angry this time. No, this time it was like honey, sweet, comforting. The tears dripped like honey from my tired eyes, "I found her," I repeated.

Neil's lips trailed across my face, warming my soul and causing me to tremble. They found their way to my neck and I began to feel weaker than before.

Then we kissed.

It was something so simple. Standing in the shadowy woods. His right hand buried in my hair, his left at my torso. My own hands buried in his coat and shirt. Regret was on his tongue, together with joy and a hidden desire to speak with the words of a thousand different people.

We separated.

And I stopped crying.


	15. I'm Going to Miss this Someday

The final afternoon at Wellton before I would go back to Traster Collins, the sun came out in a last hurrah of autumn. The warmth chased the timid cold of winter away, leaving the day sunny and heated with farewell notes written on the wind.

I was in a field outside of Wellton with my notebook. I hadn't talked to Charlie since that night, though I had talked to the others. Especially Neil. Just the thought made me smile. I scribbled in my notebook. The words forming shapes in my mind. My back was to a tree, I had discarded my shoes and socks, my knees propped up.

I looked up and saw a tall figure coming out across the way. His long stride I knew immediately, over his shoulder he had slung his coat, his white shirt bright in the light of the sun. I decided to play a little game and look back down at my notebook, pretending not to have noticed Neil as he walked up to me.

After a long while I looked back up and saw that he was gone. I gave the empty landscape a confused glance and turned back to my notebook.

"Running two feet and a shoe, a mangled mess this Picasso has rendered me. I hold out my hand and take a breath, I used to reach out for the morning to grasp only death, but no more," Came a warm voice right by my bare ear.

His breath slid over my cheek. I smiled as his hand sketched unnamed figures along my neck. He had come around the other side of the tree and now sat by me.

"That's beautiful, Rachael," He breathed, in a low voice.

He drew his arm around my torso and settled his head on my shoulder. His fingers drummed an unknown song on my stomach.

"Thank you," I replied.

I laid my own head against his chest as he placed his back against the tree. I set the notebook aside and let my legs fall over his. His arm wrapped around my waist as I settled my hand onto his chest, warm inside of his being. I looked up at him and smiled, skimming my fingers so gently over his cheek and down his neck.

"I'm going to miss this someday," He whispered.

"We'll never miss this." I replied, closing my own eyes, "We'll never leave this,"

Behind my eyelids I saw lights and scenes, dreams being birthed from moments like this. Our possible future together. He would act upon the stage as I sat in the audience. I would later write about being in love and publish great albums of poetry, and we would go home after his performances and write even greater ballads and songs upon each other's bodies. Limericks on our lips, haikus on our bellies, and sonnets on our thighs. Lovers and best friends. My thoughts shattered as I opened my eyes, his fingers had somehow found their way to the bare skin of the small of my back and rubbed softly, reminding me of roses. I sighed and smiled, looking up at him once again, his eyes still closed.

I studied his face like a painting. High cheek bones melding with intense eyes when they were open. When he laughed, his lips reminded me of figs. I giggled slightly at the thought and he opened one of his eyes, looking down at me curiously.

"What's so funny?" He asked, a grin beginning to play with his lips.

"Nothing," I replied, settling my head back onto his chest and closing my eyes with a smile.

He sighed once more and shifted closer to me, "Oh, I am going to miss this someday," He repeated so quietly.

My fingers, which had been playing with a button on his shirt, clutched the fabric of his clothing suddenly, "Then let's hold on to it as long as possible," I replied.

We didn't speak for a long time, and didn't move till the sun had disappeared and we walked back to the school, arms around each other's waists, my shoes and socks in one hand, his coat draped around my shoulders, and he carried my notebook for me.

I replayed that memory over and over and over again in my mind for so long so it was permanently embedded in my being. He was right. I do miss that afternoon.

I left the next morning, Neil driving me to the depot and kissing me for the last time for a long time to come as the steam from the train engulfed us. Little old ladies smiled and sighed, remembering their own sweethearts and better times as they watched us.

I promised to return for Christmas to see him in the play.

I always keep promises.


	16. Coward's Walk

Neil was whistling as he opened the door of his dorm room. In his hands he held the notebook that Rachael had entrusted him under pain of death. He had wanted so terribly to read her works, and after promising her passionately that he would never let them fall into the wrong hands. They had laughed and parted after spending the day in the field out by the woods together. She would be leaving the next day.

"You seem happy," Came a voice from Todd's bed, where he sat, as Neil set his coat and notebook on his desk.

"Oh, I am," Neil replied throwing himself across his bed and lying with his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling, "I am, Todd,"

"Does is have anything to do with Rachael, perhaps?" Todd asked, pretending to be uninterested.

Neil chuckled slightly and looked over at Todd, "Have you ever been with a girl, Todd?"

Todd looked over at his friend with narrowed eyes and arched brows, "Me? I can barely make conversation with one,"

At that Neil let out a loud laugh, "You know, you're pretty funny Todd,"

"Thanks," Todd mumbled with a grin looking back down at the notebook, and rubbed his hair out of the way.

"Oh, Todd," Mused Neil, kicking his shoes off and into the air before they landed with a thud, "She's unexplainable, incredible, smart, talented,"

"Beautiful," Todd injected, looking up at his friend.

"Yeah," Was all he replied.

Todd stood and walked to his desk, setting his notebook on the top and picking up his coat.

"Where are you going?" Neil inquired, raising his head slightly.

"Just for a walk," Said Neil closing the door and walking down the hall.

He couldn't be in that room anymore. Neil was his best friend and he was happy for him. But Rachael was so blind to Todd. She had caught his eye from the first. Before Neil even started to talk to her so often.

But he wasn't like Neil. He wasn't the outgoing leader, he wasn't charming, or funny, and he could barely even speak with Rachael when he had gone into the library that day. Neil had suggested that Todd get to know her, but he didn't know how hard it really was.

"_Your face and hands fall like rain_

Parched the ground is and I am dying

I can't keep on looking away

Pretending that you are

I can't keep on like this, or I may lose you to the sun

You are my secret, my seeker

The gift that stands unopened and haunting

Like the moon

And I can't breathe and talk

And you disappear from my view."  
  
He had written many words for her that he hadn't told a soul

He walked past the guest house, his cold hands stuffed in his pockets fighting off the winter. He looked up and saw her window lighted. And he wished so hard he had been the brave one, holding her in the field like Neil had that day, weaving his fingers through her hair. He shivered and looked away, biting his tongue.

And coward was the only word that came to his mind.

Coward.


	17. Thick Skin

_ let the world fall into its sleep!  
let these nations destroy themselves _

with swift roads and impartial vows  
For we shall be spared!  
we shall be left standing with four eyes and four hands

to face what's left of concrete and honey  
The things you fear are undefeatable

not by their nature but by your approach

Neil read the words on the white lined paper. The notebook was scented like her, she smelled like rain when you buried your head in her hair.

"Neil, it's your cue!" Came the voice of the director.

It was the dress rehearsal, and Neil was so wonderfully excited he felt he would burst. Two grand things were happening; he would be on stage and come to life. And he could be with Rachael once again. Neil set the notebook down quickly and ran onto the stage reciting his line like the empty auditorium was filled with awaiting spectators.

"Alright everybody," Said the director, after giving the actors their notes, "You all did wonderfully tonight," someone in the cast coughed at the obvious lie and Neil smiled, he wasn't nervous. After all, a bad dress rehearsal meant a great opening night.

He had borrowed Mr. Keating's car once again and rode with all due speed for the depot where Rachael was coming in five minutes.

He drove up to the shed where he had first met her and smiled at the sight. There she stood, her hair arrayed on her shoulders carelessly, in her uniform.

I smiled as he drove up and stopped at the station. I could barely contain myself as he came out of the car and tried desperately to control myself. I gave up promptly and ran into his arms. It had been a long month, not being able to see him, surviving merely on letters. It was tough. Right there in front of the rest of the passengers he kissed me on the mouth. I laughed as I pulled away, our foreheads touching, my arms around his neck, his around my waist. And we didn't speak till we got into the car.

"How was the train ride?" He asked, pulling out.

"Absolutely excruciating," I replied dramatically, "I thought we'd never get here,"

He gave my fingers a squeeze and looked over at me, his eyes bright and full of something I couldn't place, "Thank god you did make it,"

He held my hand the entire way to the school, the snow on the ground sloshing around the tires of the car. He pulled up to the guest house and opened the door for me, taking my suitcase and holding my hand with the other.

"I have to get the car back to Keating," He said, as we reached the door, "But just give me a moment,"

His hand pulled my waist back into the shadows of the side building where nobody could see. He backed me up to the brick wall, letting the suitcase fall with a thud to the damp ground. I smiled as his arms entangled themselves around me and he kissed me.

"So you missed me?" I said with a laugh.

"My god, yes," He said kissing me again full on the mouth.

I pulled away with a grin and worked my way from his arms, "We can save this for later," I replied, picking up my suitcase.

He took my hand, "Oh no, you can't do this to me,"

I looked over at him, his hair mussed up from my hands, breathing heavily. He was so beautiful at that moment.

"You've waited a month," I said, coming up close to him, laying my hand over his heart softly, "You can wait one more day,"

I gently brushed my lips over his and picking up my bag.

Neil watched her figure as she walked away. After smoothing his hair over somewhat and straightening his collar and coat, he drove Mr. Keating's car back over to the building and strode into the dormitory.

The dinner bell had just rung and the boys ran like a stampede down the hall.

"Save some for me," He called after he made it to his room, "But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon," He quoted with a smile.

His thoughts were soon cut short when he saw a figure at his desk, reading his latest letter from Rachael that had a poem she had written for him within it.

_ "I want Paris _

I want you drunk on wine

I want to walk with you  
and hold you up and giggle and kiss

God how I miss

your smile and thick skin

How I'd worry

and you'd press me tight against you.

Extinguishing the red flame

of my head against your shoulder

Smooth as chalk dust

you'd laugh in the face of

death and uncertainty  
And now his father was reading it with angry eyes. He let it fall down to the desk as Neil froze.

"Father," He breathed.

"Neil," His father replied evenly.

And Neil knew that he knew everything. He knew about Rachael and the play.

"Wait a minute. Before you say anything, please let me ex-" He pleaded but to no avail.

His father rose like a storm on the sea, "Don't you dare talk back to me," He boomed, "It's bad enough that you've wasted your time with this, this absurd acting business. But you deliberately deceived me! How, how, how did you expect to get away with this? Answer me. Who put you up to it? Was it this whore poet in these letters? Don't think I didn't see you two together out there, her pulling you aside in public,"

"She's not a whore," Neil said back, "and I was the one that was pulling her aside, it has nothing to do with her, father,"

"Then who was it? This new man, Keating?" His father persisted.

"No. Nobody-- I thought I'd surprise you." Neil said futility, "I've gotten all A's in every class."

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out?" Neil slunk back as his father raved, " 'Oh, my niece is in a play with your son,' says Mrs. Marks. 'No, no, no,' I say, 'you must be mistaken. My son's not in a play.' You made me a liar of me, Neil! Now, I don't want anything to do with your personal life, But tomorrow you are going to them and you telling them that you're quitting."

Neil stood shaking, his heart breaking with every word "No, I can't." He breathed, "I have the main part. The performance is tomorrow night."

"I don't care if the world comes to an end tomorrow night!" His father said even more forcefully than before, "You are through with that play. Is that clear? Is that clear?"

Neil opened his mouth, a fire burning so harsh within him he felt he would burst, "Yes, sir," Was all he uttered.

His father seemed satisfied but still irate and walked to the door before stopping, not looking over at his son as he breathed deeply, "I made a great many sacrifices to get you here, Neil, and you will not let me down." He said, closing the subject.

"No sir,"

And Neil was left alone in an empty room. He was no brave leader. Coward. He was a coward.

Poetry by Jewel


	18. Trapped

I towel dried my hair best I could after I got out of the shower. After dressing in my night gown and slippers I brushed my teeth in front of the mirror. I looked up at my reflection and wondered if 16 years had done anything to my looks. My hair hung damp on my shoulders, my cheeks pink with steam making me look healthy and bright. My nightgown was a birthday gift from my aunt. It had short sleeves and a button up top, the gown flowing down to my feet It was white. I loved it.

I gave my hair one last one over with the towel and gathered it over my shoulder as I opened the door. I was startled to see a figure seated on my bed and started to slink back into the bathroom, but it had heard me and turned. At seeing Neil's face I let out a sigh of relief and smiled. He grinned back weakly, but his eyes were heavy and sad. Something was up.

"What's wrong?" I asked going over to him and pulling a chair up in front of him.

He looked at me despondently and reached out, touching a spare curl that hung over my shoulder, "You look beautiful,"

I blushed, "That's what's wrong?" I asked with a grin, earning a frail chuckle from his lips.

"No," He replied, his elbows on his knees, his hands clutched to tightly together they turned white. He looked up, his eyes so intense with a profound sadness I felt like crying, "My father found out about the play," He said.

I felt my heart skip a beat. He had told me about his oppressive father in his letters, "What did he say?" I breathed.

"He's making me quit the play," His voice was so cold and void of emotion it terrified me.

"Quit the play?" I said, falling back into my chair with shock, "But tomorrow's the opening night,"

He sucked in the air about him like he had been underwater for a long time, "He doesn't care," He dove his face into his hands, "I just talked with Mr. Keating. He said I have to talk to my father, I don't have a choice,"

I felt anger spark within me at his father, "Well of course you do," I spurted, standing, "You have to show him how much this means to you. He is not your master; you are not a slave to do his will, Neil! You have to show him that!" I paced to the window, "He doesn't have any right what so ever to tell you what to do. Your 17 for god's sake not 7 and he has to come to terms with that!" I took a deep breath and looked over at Neil, and noticed that tears had started to emerge on his pale cheeks.

"Oh Neil I'm sorry," I said kneeling down beside him and taking his face in my hands, "Forgive me, I need to watch my tongue,"

"No," He said pushing away my hands, "No it's alright, and I wish I had your courage. You don't understand, I can't tell him these things,"

I fell back onto my heels watching his face, so cold, like stone. I reached out again and trailed the back of my fingers along his cheek. He shivered and stood, walking to the window, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I'm trapped,"

I sat on the floor, with my white dressing gown and woman's heart as he stood by the window.

"You're never trapped,"

I heard him turn and walk to my door, "Wait," I said, "Please don't go, I want to help you."

I looked over at him, my eyes large with pleas for advice on how to reach him. He looked down at me, his own eyes beginning to well even more with tears. I held out my hand to him. He walked over and took it, just as he began to sob. I brought him down to my level and wrap him in my arms, holding him close as he cried into my chest.

I held him still as he went tranquil, his shallow breathing deepened, inhaling evenly, like the waves on the ocean, beating in time with the moon and tides, beating in time with my own breaths, beating like the heart of an infant within it's mother's belly. He drew away, his eyes red. He stood, looking at me. I stood with him. We faced each other, saying nothing, just barely touching. His hand rose to my cheek and touched it so lightly like I was a porcelain doll that would break at the most rapid of movements.

"I'll talk to him," He replied, bringing his hand down.

I smiled softly. He leant forward and kissed me so softly I almost didn't feel it. I caught his lips in mine before he could retreat and held them like his heart for as long as I could. He pulled back, smiled, and left the room.

I shook like a leaf in a torrent of angry winds and rains.

I tasted hopelessness in his lips, mingling with broken dreams and the same sugar salt that lingered on my tongue for hours after he kissed me. He smelled like autumn and tasted bittersweet.


	19. Those Words Touch Much Too Deeply

Neil met me in the lobby the next evening for the play. I wore my hair up, but differently than usual. A few curls loosely floated above my shoulders, and I wore my red dress with the pearl buttons. I must have stood in front of that mirror for hours, perfecting myself to the highest possible point. After feeling rather discouraged about the way I looked I put my coat on and walked to the elevator, feeling as though it was going as slow as possible.

The doors opened and I guess that Neil saw me first. The lobby was fairly busy with people, being around the holidays with families come to visit their boys. I stepped out as a swarm boarded the elevator, pushing me in the group. When they had finally all gone into the elevator, I watched the doors close and the room around me stir with emptiness. Then I caught his eye.

He stood in the doorframe, his arm resting on it, just looking at me, staring like I was a apparition and he was a mere mortal. I guessed I didn't look as bad as I had thought and approached quietly.

He didn't say anything for a moment and I cleared my throat and looked down at my feet. He lifted my chin with his forefinger and seemed to study my face like it was the first time he had seen it.

He whispered with a breathy laugh, "Hello,"

I smiled and blushed as he trailed his thumb across my cheek, "Hello," I replied, "Shall we go? We'll be late,"

This seemed to awaken him from his trance. Wrapping his arm around my waist he led me out to the waiting cab.

Neil closed the door behind him and the cab driver started the car. Neil put his arm around me, resting his fingers on my hip.

"Are you nervous tonight?" I asked.

"Yes, deathly afraid," He mumbled looking over at me.

I laughed softly, "You have nothing to be afraid of," I said.

Neil leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead, "With you beside me, of course not."

I smiled as the car sped to the theater.

I felt quite out of place as the actors prepared for the performance. I found refuge in Neil's dressing room while he went through his lines again with his comrades. It was a cluttered place, almost a closet. I sat down beside a table with a thousand piled books. Picking one up, I apprehended that they were all plays. I flipped through a few, and realized that certain parts were highlighted.

"You found my future, I see,"

I looked up to see Neil walk in with a smile, closing the door behind him.

"You certainly are ambitious," I replied.

"I have so many parts I want to do now," He said, going behind the changing screen and getting into his costume, "So many people I want to portray on stage, its like the world is opening up before me,"

I smiled softly and put the play back with its brothers on the table.

"So I'm guessing the conversation with your father went better than expected,"

"Well," He looked over at me, "He wasn't thrilled, but he's letting me do the play so that's a step, and soon he'll have to see how much this means to me," He voice sang with dreams and hope as he came from behind the screen in his green leggings and turtleneck.

I pursed my lips together as not to laugh but he noticed this and grimaced.

"Does it look that bad?"

I let a chuckle escape my lips and shook my head. His eyebrows arched with amusement and he approached me. The look on his face made me laugh .

"You think this is funny?" He asked, mock petulance in his voice.

"No," I said and burst out laughing.

At that opportune moment he attacked, tickling me mercilessly where I sat.

"N-no," I panted between laughs, "Neil!"

He smiled, kneeling in front of me, stopping. I wiped a tear from my cheek, still grinning at him. There was quiet for a moment and I reached out, putting my hand on his face softly. He laid his fingers over mine and moved his mouth over to the heel of my hand, kissing it softly.

"I love you," He mumbled.

I felt my heart stop for a moment.

Those three simple words can build or destroy in seconds. People don't know how important that phrase is. It's thrown around so much we've forgotten what it truly means. But we were an actor and a poet, and we knew the meaning of words.

And he knew what he was saying.

"I love you too, Neil," I breathed.

"And you know that I'll never leave you. Not now, not ever. This is it, Rachael. We are meant for one another, youth has nothing to do with it," He whispered, his hand met mine in my lap.

"I know," I replied, "I couldn't go on without you anyway."

With that I threw my arms around his neck and held him close. His arms snaked their way around my waist and pressed me even closer to him.

"I'll never be far, Rachael, never." He breathed into my ear.

A knock came to the door.

"Ten minutes till curtain, Neil,"

Retreating footsteps outside.

I drew back, lacing my fingers with his.

"You'd better get out there," I said, dragging my eyes from his chest up to his face.

I gave him a grin and he returned it with a smile.

He took me by the waist one last time and gave me a lingering kiss.

I smiled, "Go get em',"

He grinned as we parted ways.

He was heading for the stage and I for the audience.


	20. Ashes to Ashes

It was all blurry. The black of the mourners, the driven snow and the white lilies on his coffin all melded into one.

I was dry.

I felt a hand take mine, my numb fingers stiff with cold. I didn't look to see who it was but I knew it was Charlie. For all his flaws, Charlie was a good brother. Neil's parents had been Episcopalian so I wondered why the service was being held by a catholic priest. I guessed that Mrs. Perry had been catholic in her youth and the ghosts of those angry sermons and promises of eternal damnation still haunted her. She didn't want her boy wasting away in purgatory or worse; hell.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,"

The typical words, phrases, gestures all came back to me. Here I was again, standing by the open grave of one I loved. With a sudden surge of human emotion, I squeezed Charlie's hand. He responded by protectively drawing an arm around my shoulders as if he could shelter me from this storm.

The morning after the play, I woke with the dawn and was given words of comfort for my dead friend.

Neil had shot himself that night, bleeding red on his living room floor. I screamed when I found out. Todd did as well, but he found solace in the open snow. I followed but not to find him. In my robe and slippers, I found our Indian cave and fainted on the floor.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Neil would have rather died than have his passion taken away.

When Catherine died, Heathcliff muttered with mad eyes through clenched teeth

"_I cannot live without my life; I cannot live without my soul."_

When the grief subsided, flowing back to the sea like the tide, the beach would be littered with anger and resentment.

Ashes the ashes.

Dear god, why did he leave me?


	21. The Cave

I remember the ensuing months vaguely. I had dreams that would shake me from sleep and leave me gasping for breath. There were a few times I swore I saw Neil standing in a crowd but when I looked back he was gone. I was told this was a normal occurrence accompanying grief. It was just your brain registering loss.

My brother Charlie was expelled from Wellton. After his death, Neil's parents went looking for someone to blame, as if it was another's finger that had pulled the trigger and not his own. The headmaster scoured the school to find a scapegoat. The kind, radical teacher, Mr. Keating was the victim, as were the members of the Dead Poet's Society. The Judas of the group, whose name I do not care to write, did not think of me as a true member because of my sex so I was not summoned. Charlie had always had a temper and took out his anger on the ratter. He was sent home the next day.

In February of 1960, the second month of a new decade, the headmaster Dr. Nolan passed away. He went into cardiac arrest and died before help could come. I did not dislike Dr. Nolan but Charlie had never been fond of the old man.

The new headmaster had not been present during the dead poet's episode, so when he went through the paper work on it he was appalled to find out what the boys had been made to do. He invited Charlie back to the school and my father took his up on the offer, glad to get my brooding brother out of the house.

And where was I?

I tried to go back to school, but my dreams kept me from getting sleep and awoke those around me. After about the fourth week of me bringing down the dorms with my screams, the headmistress thought it would be best if I went home for a few weeks. The weeks turned to months but Traster-Collins did not demand my attendance.

Nowadays, they would have labeled my condition. I would have gone to a doctor who would ask me questions, jot a few notes and give me a few medications to heal my mind. However, my father did not send me to any doctors. He talked with me infrequently, between business and what not. He had always felt guilty about me being the one who found my mother. Now he had no desire to watch his only daughter fade away, getting paler and paler, skinnier and skinnier.

June was a welcome release from the cold, indifferent first months of the year. My brother graduated then.

I stood next to my father on the green lawn of Wellton as Charlie ascended the steps of enlightenment, and with a smirk, took his diploma. He looked back at us; his mouth spreading into a smile for me, his eyebrows arching in a challenge to my father. Charlie liked to prove people wrong. It was a part of his nature.

My white dress and straw sun hat made me look like a ghost in the summer of her youth. I clapped with gloved hands as the class of 1960 rejoiced their freedom.

There had been a memorial to Neil that Todd had read. I tried to not listen or remember. Isolation and forgetfulness helped me cope.

But I could not block out what could have been.

While ice tea and cucumber sandwiches were served, I ventured into the dorms. They were empty except for a few girl starved students who stared and whistled as I made my way through the halls. I found the room that had been Neil's and pushed the door.

It creaked as it opened. I could see the early summer sun streaming in through the glass pane of the single window. Like a moth, I was drawn to it, not taking in the rest of the room. That was probably why I didn't see Todd standing by Neil's desk, his hands resting on the chair.

I did not realize his presence till he cleared his throat. I turned with sunlight and dust swirling around me.

Neither of us spoke for a long time.

Its amazing how knowing just one person intimately can connect you with another who felt the same way about them. I did not even realize what I was doing till my feet were crossing the room by themselves and my arms wrapping around his silent, tall figure. What surprised me more was that he returned the embrace without hesitation. The movement made my hat fall to the floor.

There were no words needed for a long time, his face buried in my shoulder. I could feel his body shake as he cried. I soon found myself weeping as well. We both had suffered from grievous loss and had not met another yet who felt the same. He backed away, his eyes red and cheeks damp.

"He left something," He said, his voice stronger than I had ever heard, "For us."

He picked up a dog eared book on the desk and led me by the hand to Neil's bed. We sat on the floor beside it as he handed me the volume. It was his beloved script, A Midsummer Night's Dream, his lines marked up with blocking notes and doodles. I flipped through it, a paper falling out as I did. It crinkled as I opened it.

It was Neil's hand writing, scrawled in pencil neatly between the lines.

"_I long for weight and strength, to feel the earth as rough to all my length."_

_I want to know that you write your poetry, that you smile, travel, laugh, love. I want to know that you have children so you go on forever. Never stop living because I have._

I felt angry tears well. Why did he leave us? Why?

"He wanted us to be happy, Rachael," Todd said quietly, as I let the paper fall from my hands.

"Happy?" I snorted, "He had no right to leave us like he did."

I stood and clutched my arms, my hands were shaking. Todd stood and took my trembling fingers with strength and courage I had never seen him possess. A change had come over Todd in the past months.

"No he didn't," He said quietly, pushing a strand of hair from my face and behind my ear, "But he did. And we have to accept that and honor his dying wishes."

I nodded, his finger lingering longer on my face than it had to. I looked up and found that his eyes were kind. They weren't intense, searching and dark like Neil's. Todd had gentle, understanding eyes, the kind that you always want your father to have. He drew away from me and walked over to the window, his hands in his pockets.

"I want to see the cave again," I spoke softly.

"Ok," He turned, sunlight crowning his head.

We walked across the long field, side by side but not touching. The sky spread out above us, a blanket of blue coating the world. The crickets and katydids were singing in the early evening. The forest was musty with the damp earth and budding leaves. We held hands like children as we climbed the slight incline up to the grotto.

Winter had not changed it. This place was constant. While the world lived, died, evolved, altered around it, this place was sacredly steadfast. My bare feet drunk in the moist peace of the earth.

"It's so quiet here," Todd said reverently, as if we were in a chapel.

"It's beautiful."

It seemed that the silence did not need words so we said none for a long time. The setting sun poured gold on the floor.

"Rachael," Todd walked up beside me, "I cannot begin to tell you how jealous I was of Neil."

I turned to him, arching my eyebrows.

"I loved him like a brother, he was my best friend. But I was envious of him."

"Why?"

"He had everything I lacked. Charisma, ambition, bravery, and..." He seemed to have a hard time with this last quality, "You."

"Me?" I asked, softly wondering how long he had thought this.

"Yes, you." He chuckled quietly, turning red, "I know that speech was cheesy, but I guess I couldn't put it any other way," He rubbed his neck, obviously awkward.

I smiled softly and reached out with a hand, my gloves discarded in my hat in Neil's room, and set it on his shoulder.

"Someday, Todd." I said quietly, "Someday, we can start over." He looked up, hopefully.

I gave him a full smile as I took his hand and led him out into the light.


	22. Epilogue: Bring Me Home

_I was quiet, I was tired, and I wanted you to bring me up.  
I wanted you to make it stop; I wanted you to bring me up.  
So I was wrong and you were right.  
Bring me home..._

_- Lisa Loeb -_

The quiet murmur of children's laughter brought me back.

I blinked, as if waking from sleep and stood from the cave floor. I looked around. Though it seemed bigger, this place was still the same; still sacred. His voice at the cave entrance brought me back fully to reality. It was 1968 and we were here as former valedictorians or more like he was here as former valedictorian.

"Rache?" Todd said.

I looked over at him and smiled. Liliana's arms were draped around his neck, her blonde curls obviously taking after her father. Our son held his hand, determined to walk on his own. Todd smiled. We had been married four years before and the twins were born two years later.

My boy looked up at me with his hazel eyes and grinned, holding out his arms. I smiled and picked him up.

"Why Neil Whitman Anderson," I said, bouncing him on my hip, "Did you walk up this way all by yourself."

"Not all the way," Todd answered, wrapping his free arm around my shoulders as we walked back through the woods and across the field.

Wellton had become a co-ed school in 1965. However, a gathering of former valedictorians still came together every other year in the name of academic excellence.

"Are you glad we came?" Todd asked simply, tightening his hold on my shoulders.

"Yes." I answered softly.

"They were all honored to have an award winning author attend," He gazed off into the sun.

"Even if she was just the wife of a valedictorian," I grinned and let out a soft laugh.

Todd kissed me on the head, "And what a lovely, intelligent wife she is."

I smiled. I was happy. We both were.

We had honored Neil's wish that we continue living though he wasn't. We had even named our son after him.

My life was nothing as I had imagined it all those years ago, but this was not a bad thing. I could not love more or be more loved.

After all, do our lives really turn out the way we envision them when we're sixteen?

"Home now, mommy?" Liliana said softly. She was the first of the twins to talk, her head resting on her daddy's chest.

"Yes," I replied, "Yes, baby, I think it's about time, don't you?"


End file.
